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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831278">Kling of the Clink</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijusizefeels/pseuds/kaijusizefeels'>kaijusizefeels</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Something Ends, Something Begins [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC) Spoilers, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Fluff, M/M, Protective Emhyr, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:35:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijusizefeels/pseuds/kaijusizefeels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt found nothing but the burnt husk of the manor at the Garin Estate and no clue where von Everec might have gone. With a sigh, he turned Roach around and rode toward Holloway to discuss the contract in Toussaint.</p><p>His mood improved at seeing Sirs Palmerin de Launfal and Milton de Peyrac-Peyran. The long journey to Toussaint was made more pleasant by catching up with old friends. The duchy was as beautiful as he remembered. It was a land straight out of a fairy tale, though that impression did not last long.</p><p>Please read the first two part of the series. The stories are all interconnected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Something Ends, Something Begins [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>183</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt found nothing but the burnt husk of the manor at the Garin Estate and no clue where von Everec might have gone. With a sigh, he turned Roach around and rode toward Holloway to discuss the contract in Toussaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mood improved at seeing Sirs Palmerin de Launfal and Milton de Peyrac-Peyran. The long journey to Toussaint was made more pleasant by catching up with old friends. The duchy was as beautiful as he remembered. It was a land straight out of a fairy tale, though that impression did not last long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was nearly crushed by a captive shaelmaar when he stepped in to save a young knight in the arena. The duchess told him that it had been a gift from Emhyr. What galled him, even more, was the realization that if he wanted to, Geralt could go southward and present himself at the Imperial Palace to personally tell Emhyr what he thinks about the barbarous practice of breeding shaelmaars for gladiatorial games. Whatever this thing was between them, Emhyr would probably only make him wait an hour or two for an audience; he might even listen to Geralt in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it turned out that Toussaint had an even more pressing issue; the serial killer that Geralt was hired to find turned out to be a vampire. And not just any vampire but, Dettlaff van der Eretein, a higher vampire to whom Geralt’s friend Regis was indebted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt had thought that saving Dettlaff’s lover, Rhena, would be the end of the matter only to discover that she had faked her own kidnapping in order to blackmail Dettlaff into killing her enemies. What was more, Rhena was Sylvia Anna, Duchess Anna Henrietta’s long exiled sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether it was out of love or out of guilt, the duchess refused to ask her sister to take responsibility for her actions. In one night, hundreds died in Beauclair after Dettlaff unleashed his vampire hordes when Syanna failed to meet him to explain her reasons for using him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Geralt watched the blood drained from Sylvia Anna’s body as she laid in Dettlaff’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beauclair will know peace once more. The vampire will have left the city by dawn. I shall leave as well. Go far away. Far from men. You can try to stand in my way. Then I shall kill you both, though that is not at all my will. The decision is yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witcher thought over Dettlaff’s words. He thought about pulling out his silver sword and exact justice for all the lost souls in Beauclair. Then he thought about Regis standing next to him; he would most certainly need his vampire friend’s help to take on another higher vampire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regis may even have to kill Dettlaff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t do anything for the dead — nothing for the victims in Beauclair, nothing for Sylvia Anna —  but this time, he could still do something for Regis. Geralt sheathed his sword. “You can go. But if ever we meet again...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dettlaff departed in a vapor of blood, leaving behind Syanna’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to let Anna Henrietta know,” Geralt said as he looked down sadly at the corpse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, you will face…” Horror filled Regis’ face when he realized what Geralt’s decision might cost the witcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt bent down and took the body into his arms. “I know. All the same, I have to inform her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told Regis to stay hidden away in his crypt until all the excitements died down.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The duchess’ shrieks echoed throughout Beauclair Palace when Geralt carried in her sister’s corpse. Anarietta was inconsolable. Not even the news that the vampire attack will stop in the morning could appease the duchess anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Off with his head!” Her grace yelled and jabbed a finger at Geralt. “I want him to pay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palmerin stepped next to Geralt with his hand on his hilt, warning the witcher not to try anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed. He had no wish to find his end because of Anne Henrietta’s caprice, but he also had little desire to add to the staggering body counts in Beauclair. So he stood still and faced the ducal guards with his palms wide open in surrender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flock of advisors quickly surrounded the duchess. They whispered quietly but urgently into her ears, too low for any human to overhear but not for a witcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The witcher had just saved the city from further bloodshed, your grace; it would be unseemly to order his execution now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna Henrietta appeared to not care about her action might be interpreted, but one voice did seem to sway her. “It was said that the witcher was at Vizima Palace for months before the Emperor’s departure and that his imperial majesty’s recent trip up north also had something to do with Geralt of Rivia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is he to the Emperor,” she hissed back. “He is just a witcher.” But the duchess grew thoughtful after a moment. “Do not say anything to the Nilfgaard ambassador,” she warned her advisors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took everything in Geralt’s power not to roll his eyes. Being the subject of some court gossips was a small price to pay if Emhyr’s name could save him from the gallows— therefore preventing more bloodshed from any rescue efforts Regis would have planned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the duchess seemed to relent from her immediate call for his blood. “Let the witcher rot in the dungeon until the end of his days,” she commanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt let out a held breath. He can work with that. It would not be the first time he was locked up unjustly. After a while, who knows, his case might go to trial, and he will be acquitted, or Anna Henrietta might just let him go when she got bored and forget about him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palmerin even allowed Geralt the dignity of walking out of the palace without chains.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was not afforded the same courtesy in Toussaint Prison though. The guards roughly stripped him of everything, including his medallion, and shoved him under a freezing shower before dusting him with lice powder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was given a disgusting shirt that smelled like several people had been sick on it and a pair of dirty shorts. He hoped that the clothes were free of fleas at least. He was then shoved into a cell so narrow that he could touch one side of the wall with one hand and the opposite side with the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see the bright Toussaint moon through the metal bars of a tiny window near the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt knelt down on the floor and began to meditate.  </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, Geralt got himself in trouble again ;)</p><p>So, I don’t know anything about the books or the earlier games. Regis is one big blank to me; I like him but I don’t know his history with Geralt or why Geralt had been in Toussaint before. Sorry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm shamelessly using scenes and quotes from Blood and Wine. Comments and feedbacks are greatly appreciated :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aside from whatever torture he might be subjected to, there were two things Geralt disliked the most about being imprisoned— boredom and a lack of sufficient nourishment for a witcher’s metabolism.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For weeks, he wandered between his cell and the exercise yard whenever they let him out. At least the other prisoners gave Geralt a wide berth after seeing his cat eyes and the scars on his face and body. But it did not stop their mouths. They jeered and yelled abuses and insults at him, though Geralt was used to things like that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He heard nothing about his case so far. Perhaps Anarietta had meant to keep her words this time.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unlike the days before, a mustached prisoner, who called himself Handsome Jacques, approached Geralt to tell him that they both have laundry duties. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt shrugged and went down to the laundry with him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It stinks of sick down here, but it’s still better than the canteen. Pack the dirty rags into the tubs. I’ll see to the suds and water,” Jacques told Geralt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No sooner had Geralt bent over his tub of washings — the reek made his eyes water— three men came down the stairs shoulder to shoulder. Jacques quickly made himself scarce.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt wondered if this was how the duchess meant to settle the score with him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who have we here?” the bearded one in the middle taunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The guardian of guttersnipes, locked in the clink. How did that happen?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My, my... what could the duchess’ favorite have done to deserve this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt rolled his eyes— a set of comedians, this trio.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Back off, I’m busy,” he warned them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hear that? The laundry wench is busy. Yet I feel we have a matter to resolve. Remember our meeting, bootblack bodyguard?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now that he looked more closely at the three men in the dim light, Geralt realized that he had seen them before. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And they clearly remember him since the loud one continued, “We would not be here if not for you. So think of us as the trap you set for yourself, an accident waiting to happen. Oh, we’ve been dreaming of this— a miracle by which you would land in here. And voila! Sometimes dreams do come true.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They attacked him all at once with wooden washboards serving as clubs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt armed himself with his laundry stick. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An Igni or Aard would have sent these ruffians fleeing, but Geralt didn’t have the stamina for any signs. Three bowls of thinned gruel a day could hardly keep a grown man functioning, never mind a Witcher.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt’s movements were correct, but he was significantly slower than usual. The thugs even managed to get in a few shots at his torso before he laid them to the ground.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then and only then did a group of prison guards show up. Unfortunately for Geralt, it would have been better if they had been left alone, for the commander looked at Geralt with hatred in his eyes and spat at him. “Milton was my cousin. You let him die. Was the duquessa's coin not enough? Did you expect more to save a good man's life?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Arrived too late. Nothing I could do."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the man could not be reasoned with. "And when the Beast tore apart the duquessa's sister? Too late then, too? Were it up to me, you'd have hanged already."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Harlotsbroods!” he cursed at them. “Solitary for the lot of you. You'll have ample time to consider, think about the choices you've made in life. I'll make certain of it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And don’t you try any witcher tricks on me. You will end oh so badly if you do.” He jabbed his fingers into Geralt’s chest as a warning.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr nodded ever so often while Ambassador von Hinn talked. He wasn't paying the man any attention; the emperor's mind dwelled on other matters. Emhyr had come to Toussaint, ostensibly as a short vacation for a  wearied imperator. In reality, he was disturbed by some of the things that have reached his ears about Beauclair. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were talks of beasts, serial killers, and even vampires.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His dear cousin, Duchess Anna Henrietta, had assured him in multiple letters that it was a small matter and that everything was taken care of. But Anarietta, despite enjoying near-universal adoration from her subjects, could be as inane as she was beautiful. Emhyr had thought that it would be better to see to the matter himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unfortunately, his arrival could not be unaccompanied by fanfare. A ball had to be thrown in his honor at the Nilfgaard embassy in Beauclair. It took a week to plan the menu and another to finalize the performances, Ambassador von Hinn had bragged to him. Emhyr refrained from telling the man what he really thought about the hoopla; the von Hinn had long been loyal supporters of the var Emreis. An ambassadorship in Toussaint was a plum of an assignment to a harmless but halfwitted second son to get him out of everyone's way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Several things alarmed Emhyr once he arrived. First, his entourage took pain to stick to a particular route on their way to the embassy but even then, Emhyr could see signs of damage and hurried reconstruction to a good number of buildings. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Second, Anarietta was absent from the ball. He was told that her grace was feeling unwell that evening and begged his pardon for missing his arrival.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Emhyr was honest, he knew that he could have overlooked these concerns, at least to enjoy himself for an evening. No, the real cause of his disquiet was, as it always tended to be these days, Geralt of Rivia. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or rather, how his mind seemed to have started to automatically compare anyone and everyone with the white-haired Witcher.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This one’s shoulder was the same breadth as Geralt. Another’s silhouette made him recall the witcher’s lean hip. The fine wig of a marchioness reminded him of the witcher’s white tresses and how it had felt to run his fingers through them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Etiquette dictated that one could not be approached directly by someone below their station without permission. Since Emhyr was the emperor, if he wanted to, he could spend the entire evening detached from any engagement. Sometimes he was glad for such a convention; other times, the swarm of male and female coquettes trying to catch his eyes made him feel like a prized stallion. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tonight, he wondered if he should just pick someone and take them to bed to get Geralt, wherever he was, out of his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unhand me your uncultured swine! I am Viscount de Lettenhove, and I must—” A disturbance was brewing at the embassy door. At the center of it all was a man dressed in a most garish purple garb. Mererid let out an audible gasp in evident dismay.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr paid it little attention until he heard the man mention Geralt of Rivia.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The crowd of bejeweled nobles parted in front of the emperor as he made his way to the flamboyant man. The guards saluted sharply. The viscount turned around and nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your imperial majesty!” the man yelped then immediately went into a deep bow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You mentioned Geralt of Rivia?” Emhyr asked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perhaps it was a testament of true friendship for the man paused a moment to consider if he should be discussing the witcher’s affairs with the Emperor of Nilfgaard. Alas, whatever it was that concerned Geralt overruled the man’s discretion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A mutual friend told me that the duchess had Geralt thrown into the dungeon and that she meant to keep him there without trial!” Alarm raised the man’s voice. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By this time, the entire ballroom had fallen silent to listen to the exchange.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr frowned deeply. “Is this true?” he asked as he turned to von Hinn. The ambassador paled. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your majesty! I have not heard about this. Perhaps this was related to the Night of the Long Fangs, which befouled the fair city of Beauclair not so long ago.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Between von Hinn and Viscount de Lettenhove— who turned out was the bard Dandelion, whom Geralt had spoken about before — Emhyr was able to pierce together the full version of the story.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He filed the information on vampire attacks for another time and focused on the reason for Geralt’s incarceration. The witcher’s crime had been his failure to kill the Beast of Beauclair. Even though the attack on the city was stopped, the beast disappeared. What was more, the vampire had killed Anarietta’s estranged sister before he fled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My beautiful Anarietta, her tender heart must be broken. To be reunited with her sister after so long only to be torn away so cruelly by fate,” the bard lamented. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He now understood why Geralt often spoke of Dandelion with fondness in one breath and exasperation the next.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You will inform the Duchess that, by my command, she is to give the witcher a fair trial immediately,” Emhyr told von Hinn. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you will serve as Geralt’s counsel and argue for his case,” he commanded Dandelion. The man’s mouth dropped open in surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was not the only one. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr could feel the wave of shock spread through the room. Tongues wagged at the emperor’s every gesture. He knew that, by the end of the week, even the lowest courtier in Novigrad would have heard about him taking a personal interest in the welfare of Geralt of Rivia. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was nothing he could do to stop the rumors from circulating amongst the nobles. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he only needed Anna Henrietta to be aware of her blunder by tomorrow.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Time passed immeasurably slow in solitary. Geralt’s daily three bowls of gruel had also been reduced to one. He would have gone mad in the dark if he hadn’t found a rat-friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here of your own free will, Stefan? Or did they lock you up too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan chittered in sympathy. He was a good listener.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bet you’re thinking about food, what you’ll eat once you’re free. Mutton leg, that’s what I’m dreaming of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt thought a lot about food these days. And from food, it often then led to Emhyr.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had mutton with Emhyr before, perfectly roasted with garlic and allspice, and served with a rosemary plum sauce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witcher wondered how the emperor was doing, and if he had any more news from Ciri, if he had heard anything about what happened in Beauclair, if he knew—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden opening of the cell door let in a stream of light that momentarily blinded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you the lout from Rivia?” a guard asked gruffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt waited for his vision to adjust before answering, “yep, I’m that lout.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me. You’re to be sentenced. No funny business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Geralt longer than it should to get his legs under him to stand up. The guard lost his patience at the end and yanked the witcher up by his shackles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan-the-rat chattered a short goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where this leads?” the guard asked Geralt as he walked them up a set of stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Hope it’s the exit, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guessed it. The thing is, there are different kinds of exits. Some walk this path to freedom. Others walk it straight to eternity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed. He often wished that his captors would get to their point instead of playing word games.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fresh air smacked him in the face like a shaelmaar’s charge. Geralt had to raise his arms to shield his sensitive eyes from sunlight. How long had he been in that hole? The bright light made his eyes water. So distracted was he that he barely took notice of the execution taking place in the yard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard seemed disappointed at Geralt’s non-reaction; apparently, the man had hoped to get a rise out of the witcher. “Harlotshound,” he cursed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked up another set of narrows stairs to a near-empty guard tower at the far east corner of the prison. Geralt immediately recognized the tall silhouette that stood with his back to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greetings, witcher.” Sir Damien de la Tour, the captain of the Ducal Guard, turned around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The right side of his face was a tangle of newly healed scars, still red and angry looking. Sir Damien had been one of the lucky survivors of the Night of the Long Fangs, though he will always carry a reminder of it with him for the rest of his life. “Your face…doesn’t look good. Though, looked even worse last time I saw you,” Geralt commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But my scars pale in comparison to the fate Syanna met with. The fate that was your doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The captain took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “I trusted you. And how did you repay me? Consider it, witcher — why do you think the duquessa had Syanna hidden away to start with? Can you guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt could think of nothing to say in his defense; he was responsible for getting Syanna out of her Fablesphere prison to meet Dettlaff. He had not wanted Syanna to pay for her crime with her life, only for Anna Henrietta to listen to reason. But Dettlaff killed her under his watch, and he still let the vampire go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if Damien was here, then there must have been some new development. “Guess there’s been a decision in my case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The captain stepped into Geralt’s personal space. Menacingly, he hissed, “I’ll have you know that were it up to me, you would rot in our dungeon until your dying day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he grabbed ahold of the witcher’s chain and dragged him out of Toussaint prison. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emhyr stared down at his distant cousin, the Duchess of Toussaint, from across the pavilion. Mererid and his Impera Brigade guards stood quietly at his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a great deal of self-congratulatory rhetorics, the bard had reported the successful acquittal of Geralt’s charges at court that morning. In Emhyr’s opinion, it was a forgone conclusion. The news that he had personally taken an interest in the witcher’s fate must have circulated throughout Toussaint by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anarietta, at least, had that much sense in her. She had not been pleased, but there was nothing she could do except to hand the witcher over to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emhyr crossed his arms in impatience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your imperial majesty, your grace, Geralt of Rivia,” a deep baritone announced from the steps. Emhyr turned around and saw Geralt, with his hands shackled in front of him, being escorted by an armed Ducal Guard. His Impera Brigade escorts made to intercept the duo, but he waved them aside to let the guard through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they approached, Emhyr became aware of the scent of stale sweat and other bodily fluids wafting from the witcher. Anarietta wrinkled her nose in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take him,” she hurriedly gestured in Geralt’s direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard bowed quickly and hurried to uncuffed Geralt as Emhyr approached. He looked the white-haired man up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witcher, are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from the fact that he was filthy, his hair and beard matted, Geralt seemed more or less alright, though Emhyr noted with a frown at how easily his disgusting shirt hung from his usually athletic frame. He thought about saying something when Geralt beat him to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, had worse,” the witcher answered. Emhyr drew in a sharp breath as he remembered the last time Geralt had said those words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the multitude of eyes and ears trained on him, Anarietta included, Emhyr couldn’t help but add as they walked away, “I am glad to see that you are safe, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he figured, would bury the Toussaint court in gossips for the rest of the year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a beat, Geralt said, “thank you, Emhyr. How did you know that I was in prison?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viscount Lettenhove informed me of your situation,” Emhyr told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dandelion is here?!?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” Dandelion shouted happily at seeing his now liberated friend with the Emperor of Nilfgaard in tow. How and when did Geralt become friends with the emperor? Dandelion swore to himself that he would force the story out of Geralt as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they got closer, it was evident to Dandelion that the witcher had seen better days. “Geralt! You’re as pale as a ghost, and you stink like a zeugl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prison tends to have that effect on people. What are you doing in Beauclair? How did you even know that I was in prison?” Geralt asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dandelion debated briefly about what and how much to say in front of Emhyr. But since it looked like he was already on a first-name basis with Geralt, Dandelion threw caution to the wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regis came to see me and told me everything, and naturally, I couldn’t possibly leave you to rot in prison. As for why I am in Beauclair, Officially? Visiting Anarietta— that is to say, the duchess, we’re old friends—ah, but you know that. Unofficially, I’m saving your hiney— with his Imperial Majesty’s assistance, of course,” Dandelion quickly amended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viscount Lettenhove personally defended your case in front of the Toussaint court,” the Emperor of Nilfgaard —Dandelion was still reeling from being so close to the imperator— offered magnanimously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dandelion puffed out his chest. “A little persuasive logic, blended in some deft rhetoric, then added a generous pinch of charm, and voila — you’re free. But just so you know,” he added, “it wasn’t easy. In fact, it was pretty damn hard. The duchess was so furious; I think she even forgot she’d banished me from Beauclair, for life. All she could do was scream that you’d never set foot outside that dungeon again.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I appealed to the faultless intentions that guided you, to your reputation, your accomplishments and um...the fact that Emperor Emhyr var Emreis was willing to personally testify to your character. Ultimately the court decided in your favor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here are your things.” Dandelion handed Geralt his armor and swords. The Witcher immediately took out his wolf’s head medallion and put it over his head. “I even got the Duchess to leave your vineyard with you. You won’t get a copper of your promised reward, but you’ll keep your estate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witcher, a vintner, you?” the emperor wondered in disbelief before he chuckled at the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dandelion narrowed his eyes; just how close were these two these days. But alas, he had a more pressing issue to attend to. "Listen, Geralt, we will have to catch up later. I’ve got to get to the cemetery. Anarietta’s in bad shape with Syanna dead. Some folk forgets that under the ducal regalia, she’s just an ordinary woman who’s lost a loved one."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, the expression on both Geralt and the emperor's faces showed that they do not share his tender sympathy for the poor duchess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay, Geralt is finally free.</p><p>In case you want a visualization of Emhyr confronting the duchess, I made a <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25279825/chapters/61288735">short comic </a> of that scene long before I wrote this story, though you can see that the basic idea of the scene was there.</p><p>Comments and feedbacks are greatly appreciated :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's an image in the middle of the text. I hope that's alright. I can move it to the end of the story if it's causing formatting issues.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>All of Corvo Bianco was in an uproar over the sudden arrival of Emperor Emhyr var Emreis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wanted a bath, a shave, and some food, in whichever order. Still, Emhyr insisted on touring the vineyard since he was officially on vacation and had nothing better to do with his time, even though Geralt told him that the estate was still under renovation and was not yet productive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>BB was as frazzled as Geralt had ever seen him when he saw the size of Emhyr’s retinue. To his credit, BB recovered quickly from his shock. He bowed deeply and gracefully in front of Emhyr. “Your Imperial Majesty! We are most honored by your visit. I am Barnabas-Basil Foulty, the majordomo of Corvo Bianco.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Geralt, he said, “all of the servants and I were delighted to hear of your acquittal, sir. But if you don’t mind me saying so, you look like you need a wash and a good meal. I have already prepared a tub for you in your room. Marlene started cooking as soon as we got the news this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, BB, you’re a wonder.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt sank into the wooden tub with a deep groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hot water felt glorious, but he knew that he needed a scrub more than a soak at the moment. He reached for the soap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me,” Emhyr offered, rolled up his sleeves, and sat down behind the tub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you wanted to see the vineyard,” Geralt reminded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later,” Emhyr said. He brushed the washcloth down the pale neck and traced along the contours of the witcher’s trapezius. Emhyr frowned at the sharp protrusions of the vertebrae from underneath the scarred skin; Geralt had always been lean but never skeletal. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>If he had known of Geralt’s imprisonment in Toussaint, he could have freed him with a word within the hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time, Emhyr felt an unbidden urge to protect the witcher, or at least keep him in sight, if only for a little while. Suddenly paranoid that Geralt might be privy to his thoughts, Emhyr paused to check up on the man in the tub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witcher had fallen asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt— weaponless and naked, though Emhyr knew, not defenseless, just a little bit less armored than usual— had thought that he was safe with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emhyr paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a few deep breaths to get ahold of himself before he continued with gently scrubbing away the grimes from the witcher’s skin. Unfortunately, he had to wake Geralt shortly afterward so they could change the water. After another couple of rinses, Mererid and his deft hands were enlisted to give Geralt a shave and a haircut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the gentleman satisfied with the style?” Mererid asked as he held a mirror to Geralt’s face. Unfortunately, much of the witcher’s long tresses were too matted and had to be cut. Mererid opted to shave the side and the back of Geralt’s hair but kept the top long enough to be tied in a ponytail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, thanks, Mererid. Looks good,” Geralt said with sincerity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emhyr nodded and dismissed the chamberlain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to take that tour of the vineyard now?” Geralt hopped out of the chair and stretched his arms above his head until his back cracked. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt took them around the back of the estate where it was just them, and they could look over the entire vineyard. Up so high, they could see across the green expanse of the Sansretour Valley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witcher opted to forgo a shirt; his ribs were easily countable. “Need to work on my tan,” he said sardonically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down in the courtyard, Emhyr could see the workers running to and fro with baskets filled with food and wine. A sandy-haired young boy was chasing after a couple of chickens; most likely, they will end up on the dinner table this evening. The Impera Brigade looked out of place in such a domestic scene, though the soldiers happily chatted with the workers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt perched on one of the wooden fences while Emhyr stood close behind him. After a brief debate, he put a hand on the witcher’s bare shoulder and was pleased to discover Geralt subconsciously shift his stance to lean into it.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a beautiful place, Geralt,” Emhyr told him honestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, beautiful. Can hardly believe that it’s mine. I’ve never owned any land before. Can’t say that I’ll be much of a vintner. I know nothing about running an estate. If it weren’t for BB, this place would have been closed ages ago,” the witcher admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he thought for a moment and asked, “hey, is the Emperor of Nilfgaard interested in purchasing a slightly worn-down vineyard? I can get you a good deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was mirth in those citrine cat eyes, but the witcher seemed otherwise serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emhyr looked out to the courtyard again. He could already envision the number of men he’d need to repair that section of the wall and the cost to upgrade the irrigation system before the next planting. For Emhyr, it would be a delight to step back from running an empire to merely being in charge of a vineyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, now was not the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps when Ciri comes back and decides to take over as Empress.” He mused, “I had thought about retiring to the Sansretour Valley before. Afterward—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn’t pay attention to the rest; he was still stuck on the first part of what Emhyr had said— “when Ciri comes back...” Whenever they spoke about Ciri’s return, Emhyr always used the word ‘when,’ not ‘if.’ The emperor’s faith in his daughter was shockingly endearing to Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he must have zoned out because Emhyr was tapping on his shoulder to get his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked, what about you, Geralt. Are you ready to hang up your swords and retire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt had a lot of time in solitary to think about things. Being a witcher, trying to do what he thought had been the right thing, had landed him in a dark hole in prison. That wasn’t the first time, and Geralt did not doubt that it would not be the last if he continued on the Path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, he had not felt right until he had the wolf’s head medallion resting on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know,” Geralt began, “the call of a vintner, doesn’t feel right just yet. Wouldn’t mind a break though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emhyr hummed in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed there to enjoy the sun and breeze. Neither said anything about Emhyr’s hand still resting on Geralt’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Geralt figured that he’d better get Emhyr back before his guards start to get antsy about losing track of the emperor when Emhyr suddenly asked, “come back to Nilfgaard with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As my bodyguard,” he quickly amended though they both knew that between the Impera Brigade and the court mages, there would be little need for Geralt to guard Emhyr.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After spending so long in solitary without anyone to talk to except for Stefan, the idea of going out onto the Path without anyone to talk to except for Roach was no longer as appealing as before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why not go to the City of the Golden Towers with Emhyr? Geralt was already in Nilfgaard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tada! We're heading to Nilfgaard soon!</p><p>Comments and feedbacks are welcome. Let me know what you think will happen next :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oops, I lost my muse for a bit due to RL stress. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but it was either get it out now or just keep staring at it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The dining room in Corvo Bianco had never been so crowded before. Extra tables and chairs were bought out and set up so vineyard workers and their families, along with the Impera Brigade guards, would all have a place at the table.  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As emperor, Emhyr was given the honor of being seated at the head of the table while Geralt sat to his right. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt didn’t care where he sat as long as it was within easy access to the food. Marlene had outdone herself. The table was laden with mouth-watering dishes; many of them were his favorite.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr kept his toast short, for he could hear Geralt’s stomach gurgling. But the cheers of Hael Ker'zaer lasted three times as long as the salute before Geralt was finally able to dig into the food. It was fortunate that everyone else was so taken by Marlene’s cooking that no one, at least no one who would care, paid any attention to how quickly Geralt ate everything on his plate and then piled it high again with food. He was eventually able to slow down to savor the flavor after his third helping.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dear lady!” Mererid cried out after his first taste of a classic Toussaint dish— fish stew with wine. Geralt realized that the chamberlain’s usual sour expression had been replaced by one of wonder; the man even had tears in his eyes. “Dear lady, this is the best matelote I have ever tasted,” he complimented. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everyone at the table joined in agreement. Marlene blushed and beamed for the rest of the night.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Time passed quickly with delicious food and wine; the dinner lasted late into the early morning. Those who were too drunk or already asleep were left in the dining room. Mererid retired to the guest room with a short bow. Some of the workers had a room or two to spare and volunteered to host the Impera Brigade guards.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bed?” Geralt muttered. Emhyr nodded and followed him to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he sat down on the mattress to remove his boots, Geralt realized that he just broke one of those Nilfgaardian praxes— he asked the emperor to <em>his</em> bed. But Emhyr, tipsy and flushed with wine, seemed little bothered by this. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They laid down side by side; they were both nude since it was still pleasantly warm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So um,” Geralt began and wondered where he should put his hands or if Emhyr wanted— </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me sleep, Geralt,” the emperor murmured before he rolled to his side and pulled the white-haired man into his arms. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt never thought they would ever make it into a bed. He definitely did not think that they would merely be sleeping on it during their first time. But his own cheek felt warm against the pillow for he was a little drunk himself, and Emhyr’s suggestion sounded pretty good to the witcher as well.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He fell asleep between one thought and another.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr woke to the crows of roosters. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no livestock on the palace ground; ergo, he was no longer in the Imperial Palace.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He quickly remembered that he had retired with Geralt to bed last night. He was currently lying on that bed with the witcher's lean body nestled against his chest. Emhyr shifted and felt his burgeoning morning erection brush against the generous curve of a familiar rear. His hands drifted downward on their own volition when the witcher suddenly rolled over to face him.  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Morning," the other man yawned even though there was little sign of sleep in those bright amber cat eyes.    </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because his Witcher was within easy reach and because he could, Emhyr leaned over to press a kiss against Geralt’s mouth. His stubble-covered check rasped against the witcher’s nearly still smooth-shaven jaw. “Morning,” he responded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you still need your beauty sleep?” Geralt asked with mirth. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr rolled his eyes. He grabbed hold of one of Geralt’s hands and moved it over his erection. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m awake now, witcher.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What would his imperial majesty have me do?" Geralt asked breathlessly while Emhyr nibbled on his earlobe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The emperor’s large palm stroked along the Witcher's scarred flank down to the curve of his ass. "Oil?" Emhyr asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Much too graceful for this early in the morning and faster than a normal human, Geralt got up to grab a small bottle from the nightstand, and the next thing he knew, Emhyr found himself lying on his back while the white-haired man straddled him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt grinned down at the emperor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light. Emhyr watched, mesmerized, while Geralt poured a generous amount of oil onto one hand and reached back. The witcher hissed quietly through his mouth as he breached himself on his fingers. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr placed one hand on the jut of Geralt's hip— sharper than he remembered— and another on the witcher’s thigh to steady him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quicker than Emhyr preferred, Geralt deemed himself prepared. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” he wanted to tell the other man to take more time opening himself up, but the rest of his sentence disappeared into a long moan when the witcher sank, slow and steady, onto Emhyr's erection.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of his body gradually opening up to the emperor’s considerable girth. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Missed this," he gasped. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr would have agreed to the sentiment, except he still could not find his voice. He settled for pulling Geralt into a bruising kiss instead. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They set into a leisurely pace. Geralt grounded onto him on the downstroke, and Emhyr plunged as deeply as he could on the upstroke. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This time, there was no need to hurry. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This time, there was no demand to rush to completion so Emhyr could get to his meetings on time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This time, no strangers were scrutinizing their every move.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Here, they could look and touch to their fill.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr decided to stay in Toussaint for five more days, long enough for Geralt to lose his gauntness with the aid of Marlene’s cooking. In that period, Geralt sent a message to Regis via the crows and met up with Dandelion again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Geralt told him that he was going to Nilfgaard with Emhyr, the bard fell out of his chair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt, if you are my friend, and also let me remind you that I had played an instrumental role in freeing you, you must tell me. What is your relationship with the Emperor of Nilfgaard— known to his friends and foes alike as The White Flame Dancing on the Barrows of his Enemies? The entire Toussaint Court would talk about nothing else despite Anarietta forbidding the mentioning of your name.” Then he paused and asked softly in all seriousness, “is he blackmailing you? Are you repaying him with your body?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Dandelion, I’m not whoring myself out to Emhyr. We’re—“ Geralt did not know what to say.  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">What was he to Emhyr?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His instinct was to immediately deny that there was a relationship between him and the emperor. But he had woken in Emhyr’s arms or next to him every morning since his release. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t mean anything, but it didn’t mean nothing either. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s complicated,” Geralt finished lamely. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His uncertainty must have shown because, for once, Dandelion let the matter go.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have a safe journey, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will come around harvest time to help out,” Geralt told Barnabas-Basil as he prepared to depart with Emhyr. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rest assured, sir, that Corvo Bianco will be well taken care of during your absence.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks, BB.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt walked over to Emhyr, who was standing next to the carriage looking back toward the courtyard. He followed his gaze and saw Mererid bowing to Marlene.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is your chamberlain trying to steal my cook?” he asked the emperor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr made a noncommittal sound but then added, “you should do all you can to stay on Mererid’s good side. Remember that he is in charge of the imperial dress code.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt’s eyes widened as he recalled his time in Vizima Palace. “Shit, am I going to have to wear ruff again?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Emhyr looked at his Witcher, who regularly hunted and killed monsters and beasts that men would piss themselves at the sight of, pale at the thought of court fashion. The Emperor of Nilfgaard threw his head backward and laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, Geralt. These idiots need to talk. But will they? And yes, I totally ship Marlene/Mererid.</p><p>Comments are appreciated and highly motivating :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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